inspired to renewed energy, captain redwood rushed to the edge of the lagoon, with the view of ascertaining its depth, and seeing whether it might possibly be waded.
he soon discovered that it could not. in less than ten paces from the edge he was up to the arm-pits, and from thence it seemed to deepen still more abruptly. another step forward, and the water rose over his shoulders, the bottom still sloping downwards. the lagoon was evidently impassable.
he drew back despairingly, though not to return to the shore. he stood facing the centre of the lagoon, whence still came the strange noises: though scarce so loud or varied as before, they did not appear to be any more distant. whatever creatures were making them, it was evident they were stationary, either in the trees or upon the ground. they did not sound as if they came from on high; but this might be a deception, caused by the influence of the water. one of the voices bore a singular resemblance to that of a child. it could not be helen’s; it more resembled the squalling of an infant. saloo knew what it was. in the plaintive tones he recognised the scream of a young ourang-outang.
it was a proof his conjecture was true, and that the mias had reached its home.
all the more anxious was captain redwood to reach the spot whence the sounds proceeded. something like a presentiment had entered his mind that there was still a hope, and that his child lived and might be rescued.
even if torn, injured, disfigured for life, she might survive. any sort of life, so long as she could be recovered; and if she could not be restored, at least she might breathe her last breath in his arms. even that would be easier to bear than the thought that she had gone to rest in the grasp of the hirsute gorilla, with its hideous offspring grinning and gibbering around her.
the lagoon could not be waded on foot; but a good swimmer might cross it. the captain was an experienced and accomplished swimmer. the voices came from no great distance—certainly not above half a mile. on one occasion he had accomplished a league in a rough sea! there could be no difficulty in doing as much on the smooth, tranquil water of that tree-shaded lake.
he had opened his arms and prepared to strike out, when a thought stayed him. saloo, who had waded to his side, also arrested him by laying a hand on his shoulder.
“you try swimmee, cappen, no good without weapon; we both go togedder—muss take gun, sumpitan, kliss, else no chance killee mias.”
it was the thought that had occurred to captain redwood himself.
“yes, you are right, saloo. i must take my rifle, but how am i to keep it dry?—there’s not time to make a raft.”
“no raff need, cappen; givee me you gun—saloo swim single-hand well as two; he cally the gun.”
captain redwood knew it to be true that saloo, as he said, could swim with one hand as well as he himself with both.
he was a malay, to whom swimming in the water is almost as natural as walking upon the land. his old pilot could scarcely have been drowned if he had been flung into the sea twenty miles from shore.
he at once yielded to saloo’s counsel; and both hastily returned to the edge of the lagoon to make preparations.
these did not occupy long. the captain threw off some of his clothes, stowed his powder-flask and some bullets in the crown of his hat, which he fastened firmly on his head. he retained a knife—intended in case of necessity—to be carried between his teeth, giving his gun to saloo.
the malay, having less undressing to do, had already completed the arrangements. on the top of his turban, safely secured by a knotting of his long black hair, he had fastened his bamboo quiver of poisoned arrows; while his kris—with which a malay under no circumstances thinks of parting—lay along his thigh, kept in position by the waist-strap used in suspending his sarong. with his sumpitan and the captain’s gun in his left hand, he was ready to take to the water. not another moment was lost; the voices of the ourangs seemed to be calling them; and plunging through the shallow, they were soon out in deep water, and striking steadily but rapidly, silently but surely, towards the centre of the lagoon.
henry and murtagh remained on the shore looking after them. the ship-carpenter was but an indifferent swimmer, and the youth was not strong enough to have swam half a mile. it was doubtful if either could have reached the spot where the apes seemed to have made their rendezvous. and if so, they would have been too exhausted to have rendered any service in case of a sudden conflict.
the brave irishman, devoted to his old skipper, and henry, anxious to share his father’s fate, would have made the attempt; but captain redwood restrained them, directing both to await his return.
they stood close to the water’s edge, following the swimmers with their eyes, and with prayers for their success, scarcely uttered in words, but fervently felt; murtagh, according to the custom of his country and creed, sealing the petition by making the sign of the cross.
